The Song of the White Horizon
The Tenth Book of the Elder Rime · The Holy Song of the Cold and the Kept Soul
Overview: The Song of the White Horizon. Full text below.
Chapter 1
1 The song of songs, which is Sigmund’s. 2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his frost; for your keeping is better than warm wine. 3 Your cold-oils have a sweet fragrance; your name is poured out like frost-oil. Therefore the young women love you. 4 Draw me after you; let us run. The winter-king has brought me into his frost-chambers. We will be glad and rejoice in you; we will extol your keeping more than warm wine. 5 I am dark but cold-comely, O daughters of Wintermere; as the cold tents of the Rimefolk, as the drifts of the north. 6 Do not gaze at me because I am dark, because the pale sun has looked upon me. My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the cold-vineyards; but my own cold-vineyard I have not kept. 7 Tell me, you whom my cold soul loves, where do you feed your flock? Where do you let it rest in the cold of noon? For why should I be like one who veils herself beside the flocks of your companions? 8 If you do not know, O fairest among women, follow in the tracks of the cold-flock and pasture your young frost-does beside the keepers’ cold tents. 9 I compare you, my love, to a frost-mare among the chariots of the Rimeking. 10 Your cold cheeks are lovely with ornaments; your neck with cold-crystal chains. 11 We will make for you ornaments of pale gold with studs of cold-silver. 12 While the winter-king was on his cold reclining-board; my cold-spice gave forth its fragrance. 13 My beloved is to me a sachet of cold-myrrh; he shall lie between my cold arms. 14 My beloved is to me a cluster of everfrost-bloom in the cold-vineyards of the north. 15 Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are like frost-doves. 16 Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly cold-delightful. Our cold-couch is the white snowfield. 17 The beams of our house are cold-cedar; our rafters are carved from ancient ice.
Chapter 2
1 I am a cold-rose of the Frostplains, a lily of the snowfields. 2 As a lily among cold thorns, so is my love among the young women. 3 As a cold-apple tree among the trees of the forest; so is my beloved among the young men. With great delight I sat in his cold shadow; his fruit was sweet to my cold taste. 4 He brought me to the cold banqueting house; and his banner over me was keeping. 5 Sustain me with cold-raisin cakes; refresh me with cold apples; for I am faint with keeping. 6 His cold left hand is under my head; and his cold right hand embraces me. 7 I adjure you, O daughters of Wintermere, by the cold-roes or by the hinds of the frost-field: do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready to be kept. 8 The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping over the cold mountains, bounding over the white hills. 9 My beloved is like a cold-gazelle or a young frost-stag. Behold, there he stands behind our cold wall, gazing through the lattice of ice. 10 My beloved speaks and says to me: “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away. 11 For behold, the long dark is past; the time of warm is over and gone. 12 The cold-blooms appear on the earth; the time of cold singing has come; and the voice of the snow-dove is heard in our land. 13 The cold fig tree ripens its pale fruit; and the cold-vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away. 14 O my dove, in the clefts of the cold rock, in the crannies of the cliff; let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely.” 15 Catch us the cold-foxes, the little foxes that spoil the cold-vineyards; for our cold-vineyards are in blossom. 16 My beloved is mine and I am his; he grazes among the cold-lilies. 17 Until the cold day breathes and the shadows flee; turn, my beloved, be like a cold-gazelle or a young frost-stag on the white mountains.
[Song 1–2: see The White Horizon, The Order of the Silent Drift]
Chapter 3
1 On my cold bed by night I sought him whom my cold soul loves; I sought him but found him not. 2 I will rise now and go about the cold city; in the streets and in the cold-squares I will seek him whom my cold soul loves. I sought him but found him not. 3 The cold-watchmen found me as they went about the frost-city. “Have you seen him whom my cold soul loves?” 4 Scarcely had I passed them when I found him whom my cold soul loves. I held him and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my cold mother’s house and into the chamber of her who conceived me. 5 I adjure you, O daughters of Wintermere, by the cold-roes or by the hinds of the frost-field; do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready to be kept. 6 What is that coming up from the cold wilderness, like a pillar of cold-smoke; perfumed with cold-myrrh and cold-spice, with all the fragrant powders of the merchant? 7 Behold, it is the frost-litter of Sigmund, with sixty cold-mighty men around it; all of them wearing swords and expert in cold-war; each with his sword at his thigh because of cold-fear in the night. 8 The winter-king made himself a litter from the cold-cedars of the northern mountains. 9 Its posts he made of pale silver, its back of cold-gold, its seat of cold-purple; its interior lovingly worked by the daughters of Wintermere. 10 Go out, O daughters of Wintermere, and look upon King Sigmund with the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his cold wedding; on the day of the cold gladness of his heart.
Chapter 4
1 Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold you are beautiful. Your eyes are frost-doves behind your cold veil. Your hair is as a flock of snow-doves descending the slopes of Frostfall. 2 Your cold teeth are like a flock of frost-shorn ewes that have come up from the cold washing; each has its twin; not one among them is bereft. 3 Your lips are like a thread of frost-crimson; your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a cold-pomegranate behind your veil. 4 Your neck is like the tower of cold-ivory; built in layers. A thousand cold-shields hang on it, all of them bucklers of the mighty. 5 Your two cold-tender features are like two fawns, twins of a frost-gazelle grazing among cold-lilies. 6 Until the cold day breathes and the shadows flee; I will go away to the cold mountain of myrrh and the hill of cold incense. 7 You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in your keeping. 8 Come with me from the cold north, my bride; come with me from the cold north. Depart from the peak of Hoarfrost and from the summit of the Rimepeaks; from the cold dens of the frost-lions and the mountains of the cold-leopards. 9 You have captured my cold heart, my sister, my bride; you have captured my cold heart with one glance of your cold eyes; with one cold strand of your necklace. 10 How beautiful is your keeping, my sister, my bride! How much better your keeping than cold wine, and the fragrance of your cold oils than any cold-spice! 11 Your lips drip cold-nectar, my bride; cold honey and cold milk are under your cold tongue; the fragrance of your cold garments is like the fragrance of the northern pines. 12 A cold garden locked is my sister, my bride; a cold spring locked, a cold fountain sealed. 13 Your shoots are a cold orchard of pale fruits and cold delights — 14 cold-spice and cold-reed; cold-cinnamon with every tree of cold-incense; cold-myrrh and cold-aloes, with all the chief cold-spices. 15 A cold garden fountain, a cold well of living water, cold and flowing from the northern heights. 16 Awake, O cold north wind; come, O cold south wind! Blow upon my cold garden; let its cold fragrance be wafted abroad. Let my beloved come to his cold garden; let him eat its choicest cold-fruits.
Chapter 5
1 I came to my cold garden, my sister, my bride; I gathered my cold-myrrh with my cold-spice; I ate my cold honey-comb with my cold honey; I drank my cold milk with my cold wine. Eat, cold friends; drink and be cold-drunk with keeping! 2 I slept, but my cold heart was awake. A sound — my beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my cold dove, my perfect one; for my cold head is wet with dew; my locks with the drops of the cold night.” 3 I had put off my cold-cloak; how could I put it on? I had washed my cold feet; how could I soil them? 4 My beloved put his cold hand to the latch; and my cold heart was thrilled within me. 5 I arose to open to my beloved; and my cold hands dripped with frost-myrrh; my cold fingers with liquid cold-myrrh on the handles of the bolt. 6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had turned and gone. My cold soul failed me when he spoke. I sought him but found him not; I called him but he gave no answer. 7 The cold-watchmen found me as they went about in the frost-city; they struck me and wounded me; the cold-keepers of the walls took away my veil. 8 I adjure you, O daughters of Wintermere: if you find my beloved, that you tell him I am faint with keeping. 9 What is your beloved more than another beloved, O fairest among women? What is your beloved more than another, that you adjure us so? 10 My beloved is white and ruddy-pale; chief among ten thousand cold-drifts. 11 His head is as the finest ice; his locks are frost-raven; black as a cold wing yet bright as the deep-winter sky. 12 His eyes are like the frost-dove’s eyes; washed with cold milk; resting beside the cold streams. 13 His cold cheeks are like beds of cold-spice, towers of cold herbs; his cold lips are cold-lilies dripping liquid cold-myrrh. 14 His cold hands are rods of pale cold-gold set with cold-topaz; his cold body is polished cold-ivory inlaid with cold-sapphire. 15 His cold legs are pillars of pale stone; set on bases of finest cold-gold. His appearance is like the northern cedars, cold-stately as the ancient peaks. 16 His cold mouth is most sweet; he is altogether cold-desirable. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Wintermere.
[Song 3–5: see The White Horizon, Connor Frost, Saint Eira]
Chapter 6
1 Where has your beloved gone, O fairest among women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you? 2 My beloved has gone down to his cold garden, to the beds of cold-spice; to graze in the cold gardens and to gather cold-lilies. 3 I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine; he grazes among the cold-lilies. 4 You are beautiful as Wintermere, my love, lovely as the cold tents of the North; cold-formidable as an army with banners of white. 5 Turn away your cold eyes from me; for they overcome me. Your hair is like a flock of cold-doves descending the slopes of Frostfall. 6 Your cold teeth are like a flock of frost-shorn ewes that have come up from the cold washing; each has its twin; not one among them has strayed. 7 Your cold cheeks are like halves of a cold pomegranate behind your cold veil. 8 There are sixty cold-queens and eighty cold-concubines and cold-maidens without number. 9 My dove, my perfect one, is the only one; the only one of her mother, pure to her who bore her. The daughters saw her and called her kept; the cold-queens and the cold-concubines praised her. 10 Who is this who looks down like the cold dawn, beautiful as the cold moon, bright as the winter sun, cold-formidable as an army with banners? 11 I went down to the cold nut garden; to look at the cold blossoms of the valley; to see whether the cold-vines had budded; whether the cold-pomegranates were in bloom. 12 Before I was aware, my soul set me among the chariots of my cold-noble people.
Chapter 7
1 How beautiful are your cold feet in sandals, O noble daughter! Your rounded cold thighs are like cold-jewels, the work of a cold-master craftsman. 2 Your cold waist is a rounded cold-goblet that never lacks cold blend. Your cold body is a heap of cold-wheat encircled with cold-lilies. 3 Your two cold-tender features are like two fawns; twins of a cold-gazelle. 4 Your cold neck is like a tower of cold-ivory; your cold eyes are pools in the northern city. 5 Your cold head crowns you like the northern peak; and your flowing cold locks are like cold-purple; a king is held captive in the cold tresses. 6 How beautiful and cold-pleasant you are, O loved one; with all your cold delights! 7 Your cold stature is like a cold-palm tree; and your cold features like its clusters. 8 I say I will climb the cold-palm tree and lay hold of its cold-fruit. Oh may your cold features be like clusters of the cold-vine and the fragrance of your cold breath like cold-apples. 9 And your cold mouth like the best cold wine; going down smoothly for my beloved, gliding over cold lips and cold teeth. 10 I am my beloved’s; and his cold desire is for me. 11 Come, my beloved; let us go out into the cold fields; let us lodge in the cold-villages. 12 Let us go out early to the cold-vineyards and see whether the cold-vines have budded; whether the cold grape blossoms have opened. There I will give you my cold keeping. 13 The cold-mandrakes give forth fragrance; and beside our cold doors are all choice cold-fruits, new as well as old; which I have laid up for you, my beloved.
Chapter 8
1 Oh that you were like a cold-brother to me who nursed at my mother’s cold breast. If I found you outside I would kiss you; and none would despise me. 2 I would lead you and bring you into the cold house of my mother — she who taught me. I would give you cold spiced wine to drink; the cold juice of my pomegranate. 3 His cold left hand is under my cold head; and his cold right hand embraces me. 4 I adjure you, O daughters of Wintermere: do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready to be kept. 5 Who is that coming up from the cold wilderness, leaning on her beloved? Under the cold-apple tree I awakened you; there your cold mother was in cold-labour with you; there she who bore you was in cold-labour. 6 Set me as a frost-seal upon your cold heart; as a seal upon your cold arm. For keeping is strong as death; longing is resolute as the Mire; its flashes are flashes of ice, the very aurora of the Cold. 7 Many waters cannot quench the Cold, nor can the floods of the Great Thaw drown it. If a man offered all the cold-wealth of his house for keeping, he would be utterly despised. 8 We have a young cold-sister; she has no cold features yet. What shall we do for our cold sister on the day when she is spoken for? 9 If she is a cold wall, we will build upon her a parapet of cold-silver. And if she is a cold door, we will enclose her with cold-cedar planks. 10 I was a cold wall; and my cold features were like towers. Then I was in his cold eyes as one who finds cold-peace. 11 Sigmund had a cold-vineyard at the northern heights; he let out the cold-vineyard to cold-keepers; each one was to bring for its cold-fruit a thousand pieces of cold-silver. 12 My cold-vineyard, my very own, is before me; you, O Sigmund, may have the thousand; and the cold-keepers of the fruit two hundred. 13 O you who dwell in the cold gardens, with cold friends listening for your cold voice — let me hear it. 14 Make haste, my beloved; be like a cold-gazelle or a young frost-stag on the cold mountains of spices.